


Like Pulling Teeth

by analog_romeo



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dipper's Mindscape, Mild Gore, Other, Paranoia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 12:47:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5829517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/analog_romeo/pseuds/analog_romeo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He always wakes up short of breath and panicked, waiting for an impact that isn't there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Pulling Teeth

_One of the lightbulbs over the mirror is flickering, and the dirty blue tiles smell like mold._

_“Dipper! Are you okay in there?”_

_He’s got floss looped around his bottom front tooth. Water running. Something sharp and painful is flooding in his lungs, something loud and awful washing through his stomach._

_With this tips of his fingers he knots the floss and swallows dry. “Yeah,” he chokes, tugging sharply on the long end of the floss that hangs from his mouth. There’s a light pressure on his gums and then it’s gone._

_A long, warm ribbon of tears drowns out the side of his face, but he’s not crying. There’s snot streaming down his lips but he swears he’s not crying. Strings of blood and drool waterfall from his lips and hit the running water in the sink. He’s not crying. He’s not crying._

\--

He doesn’t know why he keeps having dreams about when he was twelve. He always wakes up short of breath and panicked, waiting for an impact that isn’t there.

He sits at his desk as the papers get handed out, but no one tells him what they’re for. His hands don’t feel real, they’re shaking and his vision jumps when he tries to focus. He lets his eyes roll back and lids roll over, reality rushing away and jumping back for seconds at a time before disappearing again.

Every time he opens his eyes he forgets where he is. The color seems to be draining from the room, and none of the faces look familiar anymore. He feels panic rising but he doesn’t feel it hitting. He hears the words the teacher’s saying but none of them connect.

He hears numbers and words that start with A, he hears ands and ors and ifs, and they all seem to click together but he can’t repeat them back. The second they’re painted in his head they’re gone without a trace. He tries to read what’s on his paper and the words mesh together just like the ones in his ears.

Then he hears laughing.

He can feel someone right behind him but he knows if he turns around to check people’ll think he’s crazy. He just shuts his eyes again, drowning out the voices. He doesn’t know who’s talking anymore and it should scare him, but it doesn’t.

The laughing gets louder. Closer. With every pause he feels something growing closer but he can’t look, he won’t look, because even if there is something there, it might think he’s crazy too.

\--

“What’s the matter, kid?”

“I don’t know, Grunkle Stan. Something doesn’t feel right,”

“You’re probably just sick,” Stan assures him on the drive home. “Sleep’ll do ya good. Just go to bed as soon as we get home, I’ll pick up your sister and your homework later.”

Dipper nods wordlessly, already half-asleep in the back of the car.

 

_He’s breathless at the bottom of the stairs, banged up and bruising, blood gushing from his nose and mouth._

_“Dipper? Dipper! Are you okay?”_

_He groans, then lifts his hand up to wipe his face and yelps. His wrist is cracked in a hellish manner from the fall, already swelling purples and blues._

_He can hear Mabel rushing down the stairs to check on him, but his vision is focused on the mess on the floor. There’s a little puddle of blood, and four of his teeth. His heart stops and then races, and then he wipes his tongue over his gums to feel where they were missing._

_But there’s something off about this dream. Mabel’s hands on his wounds are cold, and he can hear the same familiar laughter. Earlier he was too tired to place a name on it, but now he knows exactly who it belongs to._

\--

“We’re here,” Stan says, jerking Dipper out of his sleep. He snaps up, heaving to get air.

“Whoa, kid. Are you alright?”

He blinked a few times, then gathered himself. “I’m alright, Grunkle Stan. Just had a bad dream,”

Stan shrugs. “Happens when you’re sick. Just, get some rest, alright?”

“Alright,” he nods, making his way into the Mystery Shack and passing out in his bed upstairs.

\--

He slams down against the floor and his ears ache at the echo of the impact.

There it is again. That laugh.

“You again!” he screams, standing up tall albeit the pain. “I thought you were done messing with my dreams. What do you want?!”

His shadow circles around Dipper, his laugh drowning out all sense. When it’s silent--“What do I want, kid? I’ll show you what I want,”

It’s silent again but Dipper’s head is spinning. Suddenly, hands snake over his eyes, ice cold and clammy. He jerks away and grabs around at Bill, trying to defend himself, but Bill’s too quick.

“Don’t run from me, Pine Tree,” he cooes, grabbing at Dipper’s face tightly and pulling him back. Dipper’s body collides hard with the floor again, before the ground beneath him fades away and suddenly he’s floating.

Bill smooths a hand over Dipper’s forehead.

“What do you want,” Dipper asks again, this time more submissive.

He places his hand lightly on Dipper’s jaw. His eyes go seething yellow, and he snaps. “I want your teeth!” he cries, tightening his grip on the boy’s jaw and snapping it open.

Dipper cries in pain, but can’t move himself away. Bill positions himself on top of the mortal so he can’t escape, straddling him and pinning his shoulders to a ground that isn’t there.

“That’s it, that’s it kid! Cry for me, Pine Tree,”

Tears well up in Dipper’s eyes but he isn’t crying. He swears to god, he isn’t crying.

Bill’s fingers pry into Dipper’s mouth and tighten on one of his molars. He grips so tight Dipper can hear one of his knuckles crack. Without warning he yanks his hand back, bringing a tooth with it.

“These aren’t baby teeth anymore,” Bill smiles.

There’s blood running from his lips and down Bill’s glove. The demon returns to Dipper’s mouth, running a finger over his incisors. “Don’t bite,” he warns.

Dipper couldn’t if he wanted to. His jaw is completely unhinged and aching, but nowhere near as bad as the inside of his mouth.

Bill wraps his fingers around a sharp bottom tooth, tugging at it warningly before ripping it out. Dipper’s mouth runs with drool and tears are streaming down his cheeks, but he’s not crying. He’s not crying. He’s not crying.

\--

Mabel flicks the light switch on and off, over and over. “Wake up, sleepy head! It’s dinner time!”

Dipper rolls over, heart thudding in his chest. He’s covered in so much sweat that his blankets are stuck to him, but some relief washes over him when he realizes it was just a dream.

He slides his tongue over his teeth to reassure they’re all still there, and comes across a gap. He jerks his head to his pillow and finds a puddle of blood.

And an incisor.


End file.
